If I Should Die Before I Wake
by Hellinbrand
Summary: Pre-BDM. The Incubus, a victim of the Alliance's early attempts to create a psychic assassin, traps the crew of 'Serenity' in living nightmares, with only River capable of distinguishing between reality and the illusion. Please R
1. Chapter 1

The doctor shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

"Calm down," the general said softly, "You are representing the Alliance; we have to present a strong face."

"I know, I know" the doctor snapped "It's just… these two…"

"I know," said the general grimly, "but they get results."

"I'd still prefer an Alliance Operative," said the doctor quietly, "Independent contractors are too maverick for my liking."

The doors in front of them slid open. Two men in simple grey suits stepped into the corridor. Their expressions were bland.

"Gentlemen," said the general, giving his most formal salute. The two men did not respond. The doctor held out a tentative hand:

"I am Dr. Hitchens, mister…"

"You can dispense with the pleasantries, doctor," said the man on his right, "You know why we are here."

"Yes… certainly," said the doctor, "This way, please."

The general and the doctor turned and led the way down the corridor. At the far end was a thick, lead-panelled door with a combination lock. A series of other doors followed, each heavier and more elaborately locked than the one before.

"We were quite surprised to receive your request," said the doctor as he opened another door, "We wrote this subject off as a dud years ago: the treatments all but crippled it."

"I suppose it wasn't a total loss," he continued, speaking more to himself, "A lot of what we learned from this one was successfully used by the team who worked on the R. Tam sessions."

"We are aware of this subject's history," said one of the men curtly.

"Did you work on the R. Tam sessions, doctor?" his companion asked.

"No… no," the doctor said with a shake of his head, "I asked to be transferred as soon as I heard about the progress they were making but I couldn't get permission. Such a shame; it sounded fascinating.

"Here we are," he said, opening the last door. It was six inches thick and was opened by turning a great wheel set in its face.

The room beyond was tiny and dimly lit. A sturdy chair of dark metal had been built into the far wall. A great deal of machinery was arranged around it, dwarfing the figure sat hunched over on the chair. Dozens of tubes and wires ran from the machines, connected to its elbows, knees, spine and head.

"Subject _shi-yi _eleven," said the doctor, "We called it the Incubus."

"Can it… hear us?" one of the men in suits asked.

"No," said the doctor firmly, "It's under heavy sedation. It has been for years."

"Wake it," one of the suited men ordered.

The doctor glanced at the general. The general gave him a curt nod. The doctor crossed the room. Wiping the thin film of dust from the keyboard, he activated the console beside the chair.

Glancing over, he saw one of the men in suits move to stand beside the seated figure. The Incubus looked even paler next to another person; its hairless skin was almost translucent, criss-crossed with vivid blue veins. The doctor repressed a shudder as the man reached out and laid a bright blue hand on the Incubus's shoulder; the doctor was not sure which one he felt sorrier for.

"There we are," he said, entering the appropriate command sequence "It can hear you now but I'm still blocking all its higher functions."

The Hand of Blue knelt down so that his mouth was level with the Incubus's shrivelled ear.

"Can you hear me, _shi-yi _eleven?" he asked. The Incubus took a deep, throaty breath:

"Huh-huh"

"_Shi-yi _eleven," said the Hand of Blue, "When I give you the order, you are going to kill a girl. Her name is River Tam. Do you understand?"

Very slowly, the Incubus raised its head. Pale lids rose from sightless eyes.

"Huh-huh"

* * *

_Take my love, take my land  
Take me where I cannot stand_  
_I don't care, I'm still free_  
_You can't take the sky from me_

_Take me out to the black  
Tell them I ain't comin' back_  
_Burn the land and boil the sea_  
_You can't take the sky from me_

_There's no place I can be  
Since I found Serenity_  
_But you can't take the sky from me..._

**If I Should Die Before I Wake**

Chapter 1

"Pornography"

Zoe stared blankly.

"You wanna run that by me again, sir?" she said.

"Pornography," Mal repeated, slapping the container beside him, "Genuine erotic literature captured on micro-circuitry for the delectation of the paying customer."

"Just how much of this 'literature' is in there?" said Simon eyeing the crate warily.

"About two thousand magazines," said Mal, "in this one."

The crew considered the black cube that lay beside Mal on the floor of the cargo bay: it was four feet high and the same again across.

"This _one_?" said Wash, "Just how many of these are there?"

"There's another nineteen on the truck," said Mal, gesturing down the ramp.

For a moment, no one spoke.

"That's… an awful lot of porno, cap'n," said Kaylee. Several of the others nodded.

"You'll all be blind in three days."

The crew turned. Inara was descending the stairs to the cargo bay, her silk cape trailing through the grease and the dirt.

"Actually, medically speaking, that's not true," said Simon. The others stared at him. He blushed.

"Not that I've conducted any research or anything…" he murmured, trailing off into silence.

"Well, I can't say I expected you to approve of this cargo," said Mal, turning back to Inara, "I guess stuff like this takes trade away from you honest workin' women."

"Yes, the Guild has outlawed pornography," Inara said, adopting a dignified attitude, "but mostly to protect the women who get caught up in the trade; they're often treated little better than slaves."

Mal shrugged.

"So, it's illegal and exploitative, but what ain't in this 'verse? I'd watch out Shepherd; today's she's moralizing, tomorrow she might look to takin' over the Bible thumpin' and then where'll you be?"

"Well, I can't say I approve of the cargo either," Book replied, "but I do prefer this kind of work to some of the other jobs you have taken."

"Me too," said Mal "And there's no denyin' that this a good job: the dealer will pay us an extremely generous rate to transport all this to Epiales.

"It's one of the larger gas giants. Got a lot of mining stations there, siphoning the gas off, refining it and shipping it back to the Core. It's several days hard burn from anywhere civilized. Miners can be stuck out there for months at a time.

"Consequently, there's a lot of frustrated men with a lot of free time on their hands. Which is where this stuff," Mal slapped the container again, "comes in."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jayne had slipped his hand into the container and was trying to remove one of the magazines. Mal raised the lid and slammed it down hard on Jayne's fingers. Jayne swore and drew his hand back sharply.

"Sorry Jayne," said Mal, as the others laughed, "but this ain't for crew use. I didn't agree to deliver used goods."

"So," he said, turning back to Inara, "if our new chief of public morals has no objections, we'll begin loadin' up."

"Actually I don't have any objections," Inara sniffed, "The mine-owning families of Epiales are very respectable. I was recently contacted about engaging the eldest son of the Drake family as a client. I can easily re-arrange my schedule to meet him while you unload."

"Drake? Well, this is a happy coincidence!" said Mal, "They own the station we're deliverin' to.

"Now that's all settled," he said, "Let's load it up, people, before the miners start gettin' frisky with each other."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The vast bulk of Epiales filled the cockpit window. It was a dull yellow, streaked with veins of a paler yellow that swelled and faded to their own monotonous rhythm. The upper atmosphere was covered by the neat grid of mining stations, each one exactly five hundred miles from its neighbours.

"There's so many," said Kaylee, staring wide-eyed over Wash's shoulder.

"Over ten thousand, all told," said Mal, "Back in the earlys this was the one of the roughest spots on the frontier. The miners staked their claim with their tools in one hand and a pistol in the other. Now, of course, everything's nice and regulated by the Alliance."

"Alliance?" said Simon nervously.

"Don't worry," said Mal, "The chief here's as crooked as they come: he doesn't mind turnin' a blind eye to the occasional smuggler if it means the miners keep their hands off their guns and on their…. y'know."

As _Serenity _drew closer, the little crowd of people in her cockpit could begin to make out the individual mining stations. They looked like inverted pyramids, with the broadest area facing out to space and the narrowest point directed at the planet. A thin shaft extended from the point down into the lower atmosphere. The top of the station was covered in clusters of funnels, belching continuous streams of bright blue gas.

"There it is," said Mal, pointing to one of the largest stations, hovering just north of Epiales's equator, "Station Omicron Nine. Buzz 'em, Wash."

For a few minutes, Wash was busy fiddling with _Serenity's _out-dated communicator system.

"They say we're clear to dock," he said, looking up at Mal, "Strut number three. And there's a message for Inara, too. A Mr. George Drake will meet her in the managers' quarters."

"Patch it through to her shuttle," Mal ordered, before turning to speak to Simon and Kaylee:

"Simon, you'd better go see to your sister. These folk ain't to be trusted, what with the bounty on your heads and an Alliance presence on hand. Keep to your cabins until we've completed the job.

"Kaylee, I need you and Jayne to get the cargo ready to unload. I want it off the ship as fast as possible."

"Why? Do you think there's likely to be a problem?" said Simon.

"No, I don't," Mal replied, "but things have a habit of gettin' complicated if we hang around any one place long enough. I just want this to go smooth, that's all."

Kaylee turned away, chuckling fondly. Descending the stairs to the central corridor, she moved to stand beside the hatch that led down into Jayne's cabin.

"Jayne! Cap'n wants you up here!" she shouted, giving the hatch a firm kick for emphasis. There was a shout from below but the words were muffled. Rolling her eyes, Kaylee pushed the hatch open and climbed down into Jayne's cabin.

Jayne was sat with his back to her, hunched over on his bunk. He was murmuring softly under his breath:

"Oh yeah, you're one fine lookin' girl, ain't-cha…? Yeah, so gorram purtty…"

Kaylee let out a yelp of surprise and blushed scarlet. Jayne peered back over his shoulder at her.

"Whut? Oh… Hey! Gorram it, woman! Puttin' me off like that! Now look at it…. Got it all over ma hands and everythin'…"

"I'm… I'm sorry. I'll… I'll just…" Kaylee babbled as she backed away. In a few seconds she had scrambled up the ladder and into the corridor.

Jayne sighed heavily.

"Stupid woman," he muttered, "Interruptin' my private time."

He picked up a rag beside him and began to wipe the sticky liquid from his hands.

"Sorry Vera," he said, turning back to the gun that lay in pieces on his bed, "Your weekly oiling is gonna have to wait."

* * *

Gideon Greenfield, the deputy manager on duty at the docking strut, watched carefully as the two men unloaded the contents of their shuttle. As each rack of empty barrels was moved onto the strut Gideon checked it off on his clipboard.

"Much obliged, gentlemen," he said as the last rack was set down. He stepped forward, holding out the clipboard:

"If you would just sign here."

"Wait," said the deliveryman, "There is one more item to unload."

Gideon looked at his clipboard again. He shook his head:

"No, it's all here: the usual delivery, right?"

One of the men reached into his dark blue boiler suit and drew out a small rectangle of card.

"We received this," he said, handing it to Gideon, "from Mr Drake himself, this morning."

Gideon examined the card. Then he took off his glasses, cleaned them and examined it again. It seemed to be a genuine telegram, ordering the delivery of an unspecified object on that day, to be taken to the uppermost storage bay of the station. Gideon did not understand why he had not been warned about this but the signature code was definitely Edwin Drake's.

"Alright," he said with a shrug, "Set it down next to the barrels."

The two deliverymen nodded and disappeared up the ramp into their shuttle. They returned a moment later, pushing a very large dark blue container. It was fastened both at the bottom and top with thick steel bolts.

"Okay guys, if that's all," said Gideon. One of the deliverymen took the proffered clipboard and pen. As the deliveryman was scribbling his signature, Gideon noticed that the man's hands were bright blue. Glancing over, he noticed that his companion's were exactly the same.

"Hey, what's with your hands?" he asked as he took the clipboard back "Some sorta fancy gloves?"

The deliverymen took no notice of him as they turned away and strode back into their shuttle.

* * *

As their shuttle pulled away from Station Omicron Nine, the Hands of Blue stripped away their boiler suits to reveal the plain grey business suits beneath. As one sat down to take the pilot's controls, the other activated a scanner concealed behind a false panel in the shuttle wall.

"The Firefly _Serenity _has docked," the one at the scanner said.

"We will be out of range in five minutes," his companion replied.

There was no conversation as the shuttle soared away from Epiales; there was never any conversation between them. It was unprofessional.

After five minutes had elapsed the man at the scanner reached up and entered a command sequence. He turned to his companion:

"Subject _shi-yi _eleven is activated."

* * *

It was silent in the storage bay. Gideon Greenfield had left the mysterious blue container standing in the very middle of the room, surrounded on all sides by the racks of empty oil barrels.

Still there was silence. Then a faint hissing. Eight jets of white steam shot from the corners of the container. The bolts sprang back and the sides of the container peeled away, like the skin of a ripe orange.

The Incubus sat crouched on the floor of the container. It wore a helmet of grey steel, the visor pulled down over its useless eyes. Wires ran from the helmet to various pieces of machinery placed around it. There was faint popping sound, unheard by anyone, as one by one the wires detached themselves from the helmet.

The Incubus raised its head. It could think again. The dull grey stupor that it had come to think of as reality was blasted away in an instant. It could think and feel and move.

Its mind flexed and spiralled, reaching out in all directions. It could feel the other minds around it, hundreds of them. Hundreds of living, thinking minds, rich with emotion and ripe for plucking.

A voice spoke to the Incubus. A memory; it had forgotten what they sounded like.

Ah yes, the girl; River Tam. She was near.

The Incubus took a long, throaty breath:

"Huh-huh."

* * *

River ran, her bare feet silent on the linoleum floor. Door after door flashed past her. There were no turnings, no side corridors: just one long passageway bathed in a dull blue light. She could hear the doctors' measured tread close behind. She glanced over her shoulder. They were still there, barely a dozen yards away, neither gaining nor falling back. They called to her in a single, monotone voice:

"Come to us, River. Come, River. You cannot run, River. There is nowhere to run."

River turned her back on them and willed her already tired body to move faster. Blank white doors in dull grey walls flickered past her. She glanced over her shoulders again. The doctors were still there. They were little more than faceless shapes in white coats. Wicked needles glinted in their hands. They continued to walk at the same even pace, yet she had gained no distance on them at all.

River slid to a halt. She looked at the corridor again. It was blurred, like an image seen through frosted glass. She had been running so fast that she had not noticed it. She screwed up her eyes and opened them again but the vision did not clear. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the frame of a nearby door. It rippled under her fingers.

"Stop running, River. You cannot run from us, River."

River turned to look back at the doctors. They had not gained on her. It was if they were on a treadmill; walking forwards but never getting any closer. She took a step towards them. They too were blurred. In fact, now she looked closely, she could see that they were truly faceless: their heads were mere flesh-coloured blobs suspended above white lab coats.

She took another, bolder step towards the doctors. Everything around her shimmered, like a still pond disturbed by a falling stone. The doctors melted into shapeless clouds. A heartbeat later and the clouds had reformed into a dozen snakes. They towered over her, a glistening wall of green scales. Forked syringes flickered on the end of their tongues.

"You can't escape us, River. Stop running." they said in the same monotone voice.

River gave a small smile.

"I'm not scared of shadows," she said as she reached out to touch them. The snakes writhed and burst into flame. The flames continued to twist, forming the shapes of men and beasts and things in-between. Then everything around her was shimmering again. The flames vanished and she could see herself, as if through a window, lying on the floor of her cabin.

This had happened before. River could remember it. Sometimes, when she was tired and could not concentrate properly, she would slip out of her own head and go wandering around the ship, passing through locked doors, even through the portholes and out into the black itself. She had almost come to look forward to it. It was a pleasant alternative to the many terrors she faced. It was a simpler matter to step back into her head when she grew tired of exploring the ship.

River reached out to touch the window onto her own body. She screamed. A series of images burned themselves into her mind. They filled her consciousness, leaving her unable to think of anything else. A space station, hanging far above a yellow gas giant. Then people, hundreds of them, lying on the ground. Were they dead, she wondered? No, they were breathing. Breathing and shouting; shouting and screaming, although their eyes never opened. She saw familiar faces, friendly faces: Mal and Inara and Kaylee. Simon lay next to her body. He was shouting loudly, hands flailing at the air.

Then the final image, more terrible than all the rest: that pale white body, bent nearly double, shuffling its way through the station corridors. It took long, throaty breaths, as if each movement of each limb drained it to the very core:

"Huh-huh…. Huh-huh…. Huh-huh…"

The thing paused. It raised its head. If it had had eyes, it would have been looking straight at her. River heard it speak to her with a new voice, smooth and deep and infinitely cruel:

"I see you, River Tam. I see you and I know where you are. I see you and I am coming to kill you."

River screamed again. The power behind that voice was almost overwhelming. She felt herself being repelled from her body, forced back by that hideous creature. The window closed over. Once again she was alone in the corridor.

River took stock of the situation. She did not understand everything that had happened, but she had grown used to that. When one has a life as confusing as River Tam's, you learn to focus on what you do know and to ignore the rest. The pale man was hurting people. It was hurting people and it was going to kill her. She could not stop it as things now stood. She was not powerful enough to return to her own body: the pale man was preventing her. She needed to wake someone else up, to protect her from the pale man.

The moment this thought entered her head she heard Simon's voice. It happened so suddenly that at first she ignored it, believing it to be wishful thinking. It was not until she had heard the voice three more times that she realised it was really Simon's. It was quite close, somewhere to her left. He was calling for her.

River turned, trying to ignore how the illusion of the corridor wavered as she moved down it.

"Simon!" she called, "Simon! Can you hear me?"

Simon continued to call but gave no indication that he had heard her.

A little way ahead of her, River could see that one of the doors was ajar. Stepping close, she gently pushed it open. It led onto another corridor, identical to the last, bathed in the same dull blue light. Simon's voice was much clearer now. River turned and saw a group of figures a short distance down the corridor.

"Simon!" she called, waving to the figures, "Simon! It's me!"

"Simon! Simon, don't let them take me! Simon, help me!"

River frowned. It was her own voice calling back to her. She ran down the corridor.

There were in fact two little groups, standing about ten yards apart. The far group consisted of two doctors in white lab coats and River herself. The doctors had hold of River's arms and were struggling to drag her down the corridor. Except, of course, it was not really River, any more than they were really doctors; they were blurred images, shadows of reality with no more substance than a dream. Another shadow-man was restraining Simon. River gasped: it was their father. He looked no more substantial than the shadow-River but Simon struggled against him as if he were flesh and blood.

"River! River!" he shouted.

"Simon!" the shadow-River called back, "Help me, Simon!"

The real River leapt forwards.

"Simon! Simon, what are you doing? That's not me! I'm me!"

Simon took no notice of her. He continued to struggle with the shadow-father, screaming to the shadow of his sister.

"Simon!" River shouted, placing herself between him and the shadow-River, "Simon, why can't you see me? I'm real. She's not me. I'm me!"

Simon looked straight through her; his eyes still fixed on the shadow.

"River! No, you can't take her!"

How could Simon not tell the difference between the two of them, River wondered? Perhaps it was not so surprising, she reflected. Ever since she had left the academy, she had lived in a world where the real and the un-real were so closely intertwined as to be indistinguishable. She could spot pure illusion for what it was; Simon was not used to it.

Now the shadow-father was speaking sternly to Simon:

"Let her go, son. There's nothing you can do. Come home."

"No!" screamed Simon, "No! Let me go! I have to help her!"

The father shook his head. Before her eyes River saw his arms shimmer and transform, becoming heavy chains that bound him and Simon together and from which Simon could not escape.

"Simon…" River whispered, stepping close to her brother. She reached up to touch his face. Suddenly, a voice spoke, horribly familiar:

"I see you, River Tam."

River span around. One wall of the corridor melted away, revealing a dark void. A face, without head or body, appeared before her. It was utterly white, without teeth or eyes or hair. It spoke in the same terrible voice that the pale man had used:

"I see you River, and I am coming for you."

River shrank back. The corridor shimmered around her and began to fall away. Neither Simon nor the shadow-people seemed to notice anything. They just continued to repeat the same words and gestures, over and over again.

Panicking, River reached for the handle to the nearest door. She did not care where it led, as long as it was safe and away from the pale face. As the last of the corridor disappeared, River stepped backwards through the door and into sunlight.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

River felt grass under her feet and the soft summer sun on her shoulders. She turned around slowly, screwing up her eyes against the bright sunlight. As her eyes adjusted, she began to see more clearly. She was standing on a large, carefully mown lawn. To her left the lawn rose in gentle steps to a gravel path lined with cedar trees. Ahead of her was a stone wall thick with ivy. To her right was a hedge with a gate in it. She could hear running water from behind the hedge.

Real running water; it was so scarce on the frontier. River, the terror of the pale face entirely forgotten, turned and half-ran, half-skipped towards the gate. Beyond it was a rock garden bursting with flowers. Carefully placed trees spread their broad leaves to shade the path that led down to the stream's edge. River gasped as she glimpsed the garish pink of a flamingo's feathers. They were standing in two and threes in a pool a little way upstream. River had only seen flamingos once in her entire life: at a party at her aunt's house.

River smiled. This was her aunt's garden, right down to the patterns painted on the little white bench on the far bank. The lawn and the cedar trees were also familiar, except that they were from her garden at home, not her aunt's. It was like someone had mixed them together.

Turning to look further downstream, River could see a croquet lawn and pagoda identical to the one owned by the Ellsworth family, whom she had visited once during summer vacation. It was miles from her aunt's house and yet here they were, so close that she could step from one to the other.

"Another shadow," River breathed and as soon as the words left her mouth, everything became blurred. In an instant she realised what had happened.

"I can't forget," she said, shaking her head, "I won't forget."

She cast around; searching for anything in the garden that was not shadow. She could hear a faint voice calling, as if from the bottom of a very deep hole:

"Hello? Hello? Is there anyone there? Hello?"

Jumping lightly across the shadow-stream, River made her way towards the source of the voice. The garden was rockier here. Low slate cliffs rose in front of her. A narrow spiral stairway, carved out of the cliff face, took her almost to the very top of the cliff.

"I need to find the voice. I need to find the voice," River muttered under her breath. She turned another corner on the staircase and found a narrow fissure in the rock, just wide enough for her to pass through. The voice was much louder here. River recognised it.

"Kaylee?" she called into the fissure.

"Hello?" said Kaylee's voice "Is there anyone there? Anyone? Hello?"

Taking a deep breath, River slipped through the fissure. The sudden cold set her teeth set her teeth chattering. There was no light here. River stretched her arms out as far as they could reach but she could feel no walls on either side of her. She could not tell what was under her bare feet either. It was solid and smooth but otherwise unfamiliar.

"Hey! Is there anyone there? Anyone at all?"

River moved slowly forward, following Kaylee's cries. Occasionally she tried to answer but there was no indication that Kaylee could hear her.

Without any warning the thin beam of a flashlight appeared in front of River. It was moving erratically, never resting in one place for more than a few seconds. River could just make out Kaylee's tear-streaked face above the torch.

"Hello?" Kaylee called, flicking the light from place to place. River moved to stand beside her. She followed the beam of the flashlight. It revealed nothing; only more darkness.

"Hey! Guys! Hello?" Kaylee continued, "Guys, where are you? Is there anyone there? Please, please… I'm all alone. Don't leave me here."

"Don't worry Kaylee," said River softly, resting her hands on Kaylee's shoulders, "I'm here Kaylee. You're not alone."

River felt Kaylee tense.

"Who…?" she said. She started to turn.

"I see you, River Tam."

In an instant River's hands were resting on nothing. Kaylee had vanished into the darkness. Now the pale face was in front of her, staring out of the dark.

"I see you. I'm coming for you," it said.

"Leave me alone!" River shouted as she turned on her heel.

"I see you."

River did not stop to look back. She heard footsteps following her but she did not even glance back. She did not stop, even when she felt the ground disappear from beneath her.

Her feet kicked at nothing and she tripped, landing face first in a cloud. It felt like warm snow, exactly as she had always imagined. Why should clouds be cold and wet, she had always reasoned, when they are so much nearer the stars? Very carefully, she raised herself up into a squatting position and from there to her feet. She sank down to her ankles but no further. A few cautious steps confirmed that it could hold her weight. A few more brought her to the edge of the cloud and allowed her to look around.

She was in a blue sky, surrounded by clouds of every conceivable shape and size. In the distance were mountains of cloud, rising and swelling in great peaks and troughs. There were the whisper thin streaks that raced past their larger cousins, drifting sedately into nothingness. Here and there they brushed past one another, merging and swelling into greater and even more interesting shapes.

River glanced down. There was no planet beneath her, just more clouds sculling through a clear blue sky. It was the same above her: no sun or stars or moons, just more blue.

A rumble of thunder drew her attention. Storm clouds were gathering in the distance. Even as she watched River could see it gathering other clouds, gorging itself on them and swelling to an even greater size.

"Gotta move," River murmured to herself. She could not forget her danger. She had to find help.

Something like instinct directed her towards a cloud a short distance to her right. It looked darker and more solid than its neighbours. Inside, River could hear someone singing. It was a woman's voice, too soft for the words to be heard clearly.

Hopping across the clouds like stepping stones, River crossed over to the darker cloud. She stretched out her hand. The surface of the cloud was less than a foot thick: she could feel clear air and a soft wind inside. With a last, fearful glance back at the storm, she stepped into the cloud.

Once again there was grass beneath her. Shadow-grass, River corrected herself. This illusion was of a clearing in a winter forest, encircled on all sides by leafless trees. The clearing was filled with women standing in neat ranks. There was an obvious hierarchy here: the younger women stood at the back and wearing the plainest robes. The further forward you stood, the older and more beautiful you were. The women at the very front blazed like tropical birds in their fine robes and jewels.

All the women were watching a smaller group in the centre of the clearing. These women were veiled and wore only plain white robes. Four went ahead, singing softly, their heads bowed. Behind them came four more supporting a coffin on their shoulders. Another four singers brought up the rear. Now that she was closer, River could hear the words of the song; it was a Chinese lament from Earth That Was.

A woman stepped forward from the larger group and, speaking in Chinese, commanded that the coffin be lowered. The four veiled bearers obeyed. River stepped closer. She was surprised to find that the coffin was open. Peering over the rim, she saw Inara lying inside. For a second she thought that Inara must be dead, for she did not move an inch. Then River saw the terror in Inara's eyes. She did not stir at all but there was no mistaking the frantic, caged emotion of those two dark orbs.

"Wait!" said River, raising her voice above the lament, "Wait, she's not dead! You can't bury her like this!"

The shadow-women paid her no attention. The leading woman gave another command and pointed to an open grave on the far side of the clearing. The bearers bowed low and, raising the coffin onto their shoulders again, carried it slowly across the clearing.

"Inara!" River shouted, rapping on the side of the coffin, "Inara, wake up! Inara, I need your help. Wake up, please!"

Now the bearers were lowering the coffin into the grave. Tears were streaming from Inara's eyes but still she did not move.

"Inara…" said River softly. The sound of lamentation rose as all the women joined in the song. In single file they moved slowly past the open grave, pausing in turn to stoop and fling a handful of earth into Inara's coffin.

River stood frozen on the edge of the grave, trapped by her own indecision. She did not know how to help Inara and yet the thought of simply walking away revolted her.

'What should I do?' she thought, 'If I stay, the pale man will find me. No. I have to go; to help Inara and help me. I have to find someone else. Someone strong, someone who can fight.'

The moment these words entered her head, a tree appeared in front of River. River frowned. Was this a new trick of the pale man, she wondered, or had she created it herself? It was not like the other trees in that winter forest: it was young and healthy, green as an apple and covered in ripe buds. River grabbed hold of a lower branch, swinging herself up and out of the clearing.

She peered up over the rim of the open hatchway. She was on the narrow deck of a gondola. She glanced down. Her feet were still on the upper branches of the tree. Bracing her hands on the deck, she lifted herself up onto the gondola. No sooner had her feet touched the deck than a door, moved by some invisible force, slid across the hatchway.

The gondola was travelling sedately along a wide river. Mangrove trees grew thick on either bank. The soft chattering of birds and monkeys drifted between the trunks. Looking up, River saw streamers of golden cloud drifting through a rose tinted sky. She pouted slightly: she had enjoyed walking on the clouds.

"No," River shook her head firmly, "Not real. Can't forget. Must find help."

Her first thought was to take control of the gondola but she could find neither punt nor rudder. It seemed to move under its own power, independent of tide or passenger. River had just resolved to dive into the river and try to swim to the bank when a sudden bend appeared ahead. As the gondola swung round the corner she saw a brilliant turquoise lagoon ahead. It was surrounded on all sides by mangroves, except for a tall cliff at the far end. A silver waterfall cut a thin silver streak through the dark jungle creeper that clung to its face. The gondola crossed the lagoon at the same easy pace, heading directly for the cliff.

River braced herself for the cold shower of the waterfall. Her face split into a sudden grin: instead of passing through the waterfall, the prow of gondola reared up like some ancient sea monster, and began to rise up the waterfall. The whole boat followed, tipping until it was travelling upwards at a full ninety degrees to the lagoon below. River clung to the sides for fear of falling but quickly found that she stuck to the deck of the gondola exactly as she had on the lagoon. She could even stand up and walk around. She let her fingers trail in the waterfall as it flowed down past the gondola.

Suddenly, without any warning, the prow of the gondola tipped over the very top of the waterfall. River felt herself thrown forwards. The wooden deck vanished from beneath her feet. The next moment it had been replaced with hard earth, covered in coarse grass.

River looked round, trying to guess who she might find here. This shadow-place was very flat and brown, covered in the coarse grass. Here and there grew a cactus. There were no trees; nothing green at all. A dark shape on the horizon might have been mountains but it was too far away to be sure. A collection of low, crudely built buildings stood a short distance to the east.

As River approached, she made out the cattle pen and barn. She knew that Mal had grown up on a ranch: was he here, she wondered? She vaulted the low fence with ease. She was about to approach the barn when she heard the sound of someone tapping on glass. It came from the far side of the large ranch house. River crossed the yard. As she drew closer she heard a child's voice calling out:

"Mama? You in there, mama? Open up, mama, please. I wanna come in."

There was more tapping on glass. The child was sobbing now:

"Come on, mama, lemme in!" he whined.

River peered round the corner of the ranch house. She started back in surprise. Jayne was standing at the door, tapping on the glass panels. He opened his mouth to speak but it was the child's voice that came out:

"Mama! It's me, mama. Please lemme in."

River heard something stir inside the house. A dark shape was moving behind the frosted glass.

"Mama? That you?" said Jayne, still in the little child's voice.

The shape behind the door stirred. It eased open. Jayne shrank back. River watched as he drew back from the door, cowering and whimpering under his breath. The woman standing in the doorway was huge. She glared down at Jayne with tiny, dark eyes.

"Go away, Jayne," she said. Her voice was as deep as thunder. Jayne flinched at the sound.

"Please mama! Don't send me away!" he squealed.

"Go away, Jayne. You ain't wanted no more," his mother rumbled.

"Jayne…" River murmured, stepping forward to lay a hand on Jayne's shoulders. He was crying now, sobbing in his child's voice even as the tears collected in his beard.

"Mama! Please!"

"Go away, Jayne. Go on now. Go."

Jayne flinched as River's fingers brushed his shoulder.

"No! Go away!" he shouted, flailing blindly at River.

"Yeah, go away."

River span round. The shadow of Jayne's mother had vanished. The pale face now hung in the doorway, its empty eyes fixed on River.

"Go away, River," it said, in the mother's voice, "You ain't wanted here."

River glanced down at Jayne but he had curled himself up into a ball, weeping softly into his knees. She turned and ran as the shadow of the ranch house fell away into the dark void that was spreading out from the pale face.

"I see you, River Tam."

River did not think about where she was running; only what she was running from. The barn was ahead of her, the door slightly ajar. Desperate thoughts rushed through her mind: I need help; I need friends; I need strength.

The barn door opened onto a forest, so thick with trees that the sky above was entirely hidden by their leaves. The shadows twisted the trees trunks into strange and haunting shapes, distorted faces that leered out at River as she picked her way through root and shrub. She could see no path in the undergrowth. She wandered on, drawn as if by instinct towards an area where larger trees grew. At their centre was a great pine, its roots raised in arches taller than a grown man. Only now did River pause. Something drew her to a particular arch. It seemed to lead into the bowels of the tree. It felt familiar but also terrible. Hesitantly, River peered through. She could see nothing but darkness.

"It can't be worse than the pale face," she said softly. Gritting her teeth, she stepped through.

For a long while there was nothing but darkness. Then a dim light was ahead of her and she found herself in a tiny little room of bare concrete. A single neon light hung from the ceiling. There was an empty chair in the middle of the room. A figure in black stood in one corner, his face hidden in shadow.

There was a knock at the plain steel door.

"Come," said the figure in black.

The door opened and two federal marshals entered. Between them they held a prisoner, hands cuffed behind his back and a bag placed over his head. They tied him to the chair and then left the room, locking the door behind them. The whole operation was performed in total silence.

"Now," said the figure in black, stepping out of the shadow, "we shall begin."

River gasped. It was Shepherd Book. The expression on his face was one of a man savouring a pleasure: a connoisseur enjoying a fine meal.

Reaching down, Book drew the bag off the prisoner's head. River let out a small scream: it was also Book. They were identical. River's eyes flickered between one and the other. She could not tell which one was the real man and which one the shadow. Everything around them was a hazy illusion but the two identical men seemed as real as River herself.

The man tied to the chair was pleading with his doppelganger:

"Please, don't do this! I haven't done anything. I don't know anything. You must believe me, I don't…"

His pleas were cut short by a blow. It was followed by another and another; a series of blows, without question or explanation. As each blow fell, the look of pleasure on Book's face grew more and more intense.

River turned and fled horrified into the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Go, quickly, and save yourself."

"No, I could never leave you."

"No, you must live; for the sake of our beautiful scaly children."

Wash reached across the console and picked up the t-rex.

"Too late," he muttered, shaking the stegosaurus, "he is here."

"Die, puny diplodocus!" he said, as the t-rex moved to attack. After a brief but frantic struggle, the diplodocus had fallen and the t-rex was poised to land the killing blow.

"No, my lover!" said Wash. The stegosaurus charging valiantly across the console, barrelling into the t-rex and carrying it to a grisly death on the deck of the cockpit a whole three feet below.

"Ah well," Wash sighed as he gathered up his toys "can't stay up working all night. Gotta take some rest."

Toy dinosaurs cradled in one arm, he reached across the console and switched _Serenity _to auto-pilot. Pausing only to double-check that the plotted course was correct, Wash turned and descended the ladder to the main corridor. He then climbed down a further ladder into his cabin.

The lights had been dimmed. Wash moved softly, so as not to wake Zoe. Placing the dinosaurs on the shelf, he folded the washbasin down and set about brushing his teeth. This completed, he stripped off and moved back into the bedroom. He froze in the doorway. There was someone lying beside Zoe in their bed. He crept closer. In the half-light of the bedroom he recognised the man's sleeping face:

"Mal?!"

Zoe stirred softly and opened her eyes a fraction.

"Whuh… Huh? Aah!"

She sat bolt upright, pulling the blanket up to cover her bare chest.

"_Gwai-gwai long duh dong!_ Who are you?!"

"What? Sweetie…" said Wash, baffled, "What are you…?"

"Just who the hell are you and what do you think you're doing ogling my wife?" demanded Mal, a protective arm around Zoe's shoulders.

"Your wife?! She' _my _wife, you _ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng_!"

"They're not real, Wash."

Wash ignored the soft voice that came from behind him.

"How long has this been going on?" he demanded.

"Going on? What are you talking about?" Zoe scoffed.

"We've been married eight gorram years," said Mal angrily.

Wash was far too angry to pay attention to the slender hand that squeezed his arm or the hushed words in his ear:

"They're just shadows, Wash. Don't look at them. Look at me."

River sighed as Wash continued to hurl abuse at the shadow-couple in the shadow-bed. Once again, she was unable to make herself heard.

She was running out of time. She could feel the pale man drawing nearer. It would soon be too late for anyone to help her. If she could not wake someone very soon, the pale man would reach her body and then… River shuddered.

"Gotta go, gotta get help," she muttered under her breath.

Turning, she retraced her steps across the cabin. She had just placed her hand on the ladder when she heard the sound of gunfire. She ducked instinctively, remembering the next second that it was a shadow-gun firing shadow-bullets; it would not be able to hurt her. Nevertheless, it was a long time before River could convince herself to climb out of Wash's shadow world.

The top of the ladder led out into a large, shallow crater. The sky overhead was dark with smoke. The sounds of battle surrounded her. It was like some perverse symphony, with the high chatter of small arms underscored by the deep thuds of artillery, occasionally rising to a crescendo as aircraft screamed past overhead. The air was sharp with the smell of blood and iron.

The calm rationale that this was a mere shadow-world deserted River in an instant. Crawling on her hands and knees, she moved slowly to the edge of the crater and peered out at her surroundings. A vast rocky valley, criss-crossed with innumerable trenches was spread out beneath her. It was mercifully dark but River could still make out the bodies of soldiers that carpeted the floor of the valley. They were heaped high in places; friend and foe locked together in their final embrace. Here and there bodies had been piled up like sandbags. River could see soldiers in brown uniforms huddling behind their dead comrades; they were just another piece of cover now.

A vague memory forced its way into River's conscious mind.

"Serenity…" she murmured. Yes, that was right. She had read a book about the Battle, many years ago. She could remember it word for word: this was the Battle of Serenity on the second day: this was the Alliance's first advance of the evening. Except it wasn't, she reminded herself. This was a shadow-world, created by the pale man. She could not forget that. She could not let herself be fooled into believing it was real.

Still crawling on her hands and knees, River slipped over the top of the crater and down towards the Independent lines. The shadowy nature of the battle was more obvious here: the faces under the helmets were blank, fleshy blobs. Their voices were incoherent mumbling, not true words. River raised her head tentatively, eyes sweeping the line of trenches. A foxhole near the very front drew her attention. The shadows were sharper there. That was where her friend must be trapped.

Another five minutes of crawling brought River right to the edge of the dugout. The shadow-soldiers here had faces and spoke real words. Crouched in the middle of them, her hair tied up with a red bandanna, was Zoe. She was shaking softly, hugging her rifle tightly to her chest. There was no sign of Mal.

"Zoe!" River shouted, trying to make herself heard over the roar of battle, "Zoe! Can you see me?"

Zoe paid her no attention. River slid down into the foxhole. She crouched next to Zoe.

"Zoe? It's me, River. Can you see me?"

Zoe continued to stare through her.

"Can you hear me? Zoe, please, you've got to listen to me! I haven't got much time: the pale man will be here soon. He'll…"

A burst of gunfire, so close that it seemed to come from just outside the foxhole, drowned her out. One of the soldiers standing next to Zoe cried out and fell. River glanced over at the body. Both she and Zoe shrieked in the same moment: it was Wash. River's eyes ran over the other bodies in the foxhole: they were all Wash. Beside her, Zoe was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Zoe. Zoe!" said River firmly, "It's not real. None of it's real. It's all shadows, Zoe!"

A shell burst overhead. The soldiers in the foxhole dropped onto their bellies. A piece of shrapnel struck one in the back of the head. An instant later and another corpse with Wash's face lay beside them. Zoe buried her face in her hands, her rifle dropping forgotten at her feet.

River resisted the urge to place her arms around Zoe. She wanted to comfort her but she knew that she could do no good. The shadows around Zoe were too strong: she could not help River.

That left only one person.

"Mal!" River called, "Mal, where are you?"

Desperation won out over caution. River climbed up out of the foxhole, heedless of the shadow-bullets that whistled past her head, and stood up. Once again her eyes swept Serenity Valley, searching the Independent lines for another place where the shadows seemed a little sharper.

She finally spotted it: a heavily fortified location on the eastern slope. It was no easy matter to reach it. River was forced to slalom through the Independents' trenches, many of which had become choked with rubble and shadow-corpses.

At length she reached the position. There were few Browncoats here and many more corpses. Mal was standing in the middle of a wide pit, bellowing furious orders at his subordinates:

"Edmonson, get on the wire to the fifth. Tell them to fall back and cover Minkus and his boys. They're getting chewed up down there!

"Lassek, go relieve Fishman. You're on spot until 0800, understand?

"Could somebody tell me where the hell De Rouin is?!"

"Dead, sarge."

Mal cursed under his breath.

"And his squad?" he asked.

"Them too, sarge. Rollers got 'em on the west side."

Mal turned at the sound of footsteps. A shadow-Zoe entered the dugout from a side trench.

"We can't hold 'em anymore, sir," she said heavily "We're low on everything and it looks like they're gonna bring in more tinbellies before daybreak."

"That's what you said yesterday," said Mal with a grim smile, "and yet here we are."

Zoe returned the smile.

"You mean that the thought hasn't even crossed your mind?"

"Layin' down arms?" said Mal, "Why would we want to do that when we're having so much fun(?)"

Zoe grinned and turned to rifle through a mostly empty box of rations. River took advantage of the brief moment.

"Mal! Mal, can you hear me?"

The radio operator looked up.

"Sarge, Minkus is pinned down. Says he can't move."

"Well tell him he's gotta find a way to move: I can't send no more reinforcements that way."

"Mal!" River continued, trying to shout down the radio operator, "Mal, listen to me, Mal: I need help! You've got to listen to me!"

"Wh-what was that?"

Mal was looking straight at River.

For a moment, River could not speak. The sudden hope choked the words in her throat.

"Mal…" she said at length.

"Who…?" Mal began.

A fighter plane screamed overhead, strafing the trenches. The Browncoats threw themselves to the ground. Mal did the same, breaking eye contact with River.

"Mal!" River shouted, terrified that the moment had passed.

She leapt forwards. Mal raised his head.

"Mal, can you hear me?" River said.

Mal glanced up and shook his head. When he opened his eyes again, they looked right through her.

"Sir?" said the shadow-Zoe, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" said Mal slowly, "Yeah… I'm fine."

He turned away but River moved to keep herself in front of him.

"Mal. Mal. You can see me. I know you can see me. Look at me, Mal!"

Mal froze again. There was a vague look of recognition in his eyes.

"Who… what?" he muttered.

"Sir…? What are you looking at?" asked Zoe, staring through River.

"What? You mean you didn't…? Never mind," Mal shrugged, and began issuing more orders.

There was a rumble of thunder, deeper and somehow more real than the sounds of the shadow-battle. River turned and looked north. A huge cloud was rising up behind the Alliance lines. It was black as ink and stretched across horizon. Even as she watched, River could see it rolling down the valley, sweeping over the people and the machines.

The pale man had found her. It would soon be too late.

"Mal!" she shouted, grabbing hold of his jacket and spinning him round, "Mal, wake up! Wake up, Mal. This isn't real."

Mal blanched and stumbled back.

"Who are you?" he demanded, levelling his rifle at River.

"It's River, River Tam, remember?" River said, "This isn't real. These are all shadows. You've got to wake up. You've got help me."

"Sarge? What's going on?" Zoe said, watching Mal warily.

"Wh- You mean you can't see her?" Mal asked, pointing at River, "She's right there, for God's sake!"

Half the valley had been lost to the dark cloud and it was gaining speed.

"Mal, she's not real! None of them are real," said River, the note of desperation in her voice rising.

"I don't… What are you talking about?" Mal demanded angrily, "Where'd you come from?"

"Mal, please, remember, think! This isn't real, is it? Look!" River pleaded, gesturing at the hazy battlefield all around them. Mal opened his mouth but made no reply. He turned in a very slow circle, taking in the whole of the dugout.

Now the radio operator spoke up:

"Sergeant, Minkus is on the line again. He's still refusing to move out. What should I tell him?"

Mal stared hard at the radio operator.

"Edmonson…" he said at length.

"Yes, sarge?"

"What day is it, Edmonson?"

"Sarge…?"

"What day of the battle? How long we been here?"

"Sergeant, are you feelin' alright?"

The dark cloud was right above the dugout now. River was curled up in a ball, unable to move, unable to think of anything except that terrible pale face.

Mal frowned and turned to address another soldier.

"Bendis!"

"Sir?"

"You shouldn't be here. Your unit didn't hook up with us until the fourth week. But you," he turned back to the radio operator, "Edmonson, you were dead three days before that happened. Got hit by a sniper. I was standing next to you. Had to brush your brains off my sleeve. Ain't the kinda thing that a man forgets."

"Sir," said Zoe, stepping forward to place a hand on Mal's shoulder, "I think you'd better sit down."

Mal shrugged her hand away. He raised his rifle.

"This ain't real," he snarled.

The rifle barked three times. The shadows of Zoe, Bendis and Edmonson fell dead.

"River!" Mal shouted.

He dived forward, throwing his arms around her even as the dark cloud swept over the dugout and they knew no more.

* * *

The Incubus's fingers felt for the latch. It took another long, throaty breath as it readied itself for the effort of the sliding the paper thin door back:

"Huh-huh."

It withered arms could not even force the door back the whole way but it had made enough of an opening to pass through. It took another weary step, dragging its back leg behind it.

"Huh-huh."

The Incubus could not see in any way that a human being might understand it but it was 'aware'. It was aware of the young man lying across the threshold. He was twitching and making soft noises. With another great effort, the Incubus stepped over him.

"Huh-huh."

The Incubus's consciousness swept the room. She was there; the girl he had been sent for. She was lying next to the young man, as still and silent as a corpse. Slowly, and with much difficult, the Incubus moved until its legs straddled her hips.

"Huh-huh," it breathed as it sank down, its soft pale hands reaching for the smooth flesh of her neck.

"Huh-Huh."

Very slowly, the Incubus began to apply pressure to her neck. It had very little strength in its atrophied digits but it was a patient killer and there was no need to rush. It savoured the warmth of her body between its knees; the gentle pulsing of her jugular. Soon the flesh around its fingers would blossom from red to blue as the final precious drop of life was squeezed from that slender frame forever.

The Incubus could not hear the running footsteps behind it, nor the cry of alarm. It became aware of Mal's presence only when it felt his hand on its neck. A second later and it was sprawled on its back, Mal's foot at its throat.

"Get the hell off her," Mal snarled, levelling his pistol at the Incubus's face. A lesser man might have emptied an entire cartridge into the creature. Mal fired a single bullet, straight through its temple.

* * *

River was sleeping when Mal entered the cabin to check on her.

"She OK?" he asked Simon. The young doctor looked up from his seat by her bunk. He smiled as he nodded.

"Yes," he said, "I think she will be."

"She said anythin' at all?" Mal asked softly.

"No," Simon said, "Nothing coherent, anyway. Lots about a pale face, but it's mostly nonsense."

"She's in good company," said Mal sourly, "I've spoken to pretty much every damn person on this station. All they know is that there's an empty crate in one of the storage bays which they think that thing arrived in."

"Who brought it on?" Simon asked.

"That's the thing," said Mal, "the duty manager says the deliverymen had an order from Edwin Drake himself, but Drake says he never did any such thing."

"Do they have any idea who the deliverymen were?"

"No, they don't," said Mal grimly, "Somehow they managed to wipe the delivery from the station records _and _all the footage of the delivery. Whoever planted that thing here was mighty careful to cover their tracks."

"Could it have been the Alliance?" Simon wondered.

"Well, I wouldn't have said this was their style," said Mal, "but then I think about what they did to your sister…"

He trailed off into silence. There was pause, then Simon spoke again:

"Thank you. For saving her, I mean."

Mal was silent for a moment and then he shook his head.

"You got it wrong, doc. I think it was her who saved us."

THE END


End file.
